


You Fill My Lungs with Sweetness (And You Fill My Head with You)

by emotionalism



Category: SKAM (Spain)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/F, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2020-09-24 06:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalism/pseuds/emotionalism
Summary: Cris and Joana meet when they are young and grow up being best friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from “Bloom” by The Paper Kites.

They meet when they are young, when their worlds are small and filled with innocence. They are only five years old, and it is their very first day of school. Joana remembers seeing Cris for the first time, her pink dress and laugh drawing Joana to her. 

“These are yellow, like your hair,” Joana says, tightly clutching a bunch of hand-picked dandelions and pushing them in front of Cris. 

“Thank you,” Cris responds, grabbing the flowers and moving to stand behind Joana. Her small fingers comb through Joana’s hair, braiding in one of the dandelions.

“Now we match,” Cris says, turning Joana to examine her work. 

Joana runs a hand over her hair, tracing the braid. A soft expression of appreciation slips through her lips.

The teacher calls all the kids into school, and Joana and Cris sit next to each other while she reads the class a story. At the end of the day, Cris brings Joana her favorite book and tries to read it to her, nonsensical words stumbling out of her mouth. Joana sits attentively, watching Cris eyes light up as she turns each page. 

When Cris’ mom comes to pick her up, Cris pulls Joana along with her and asks if she can come back to their house. 

———

Saturday becomes sacred for Cris and Joana, spending the entire day together every week since first meeting. It’s only been two years, but now Joana can’t remember a time without Cris in her life. 

“Come on,” Joana giggles, lacing Cris’ fingers between her own and dragging her behind her. 

“Where are we going?” Cris asks, pulling at one of the straps of her overalls.

“That would ruin the surprise,” Joana says, speeding up when they pass the supermarket and she realizes they’re getting closer. She can hear her mom’s steps speed up behind them, following them despite Joana’s protests that she’s old enough to be alone.

Joana leads Cris into her favorite park, walking to the concrete fence that circles the park.

“Look,” Joana says, pointing to the wall in front of them. 

That wall is covered in a chalk drawing of Cris. Her hair is a golden halo around her, and her bright smile is spread across her face. She’s floating above ground, like an angel brought to Earth.

“Is that me?” Cris asks softly, lightly tracing over the lines.

“Do you like it?” Joana asks, nervously chewing on her thumb nail. She’s drawn before, but never Cris. She was too scared that she’d mess up and offend Cris in some way. The drawing itself isn’t perfect, a rough portrayal of a person made by a seven year old. But the heart and love are there, making up for any wrong line or imperfect feature.

“I love it,” Cris says eagerly, a smile stretched across her face.

———

Now three years pass, they’re ten, and Joana can’t remember a day that goes by without seeing Cris. 

“I think it’s coming soon,” Cris whispers, tightly clutching Joana’s hand and looking up at the night sky.

The girls are in their favorite park. Joana used to like it because it is filled with knotted trees with branches that stretch up and remind Joana of arms. Now she likes it because it is filled with memories of Cris.

They lay on the grass, looking up at the sky and waiting for a shooting star scheduled to pass over Madrid. 

Her mom is on the bench behind them, smiling down at the girls. They whisper to each other and laugh, and she thinks about how she’s never seen Joana happier than when she’s with Cris.

Joana turns to look at Cris, the light from the moon illuminating her face and making her eyes shine. 

“It’s here, it’s here!” Cris says, face lighting up in joy.

The star shoots across the sky, visible for mere seconds before falling out of view. Distracted by watching Cris’ smile, Joana turns too late and misses it.

“Did you see it? Oh, it’s so beautiful,” Cris says, staring at the sky as if the star will come back.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful,” Joana says quietly, pretending she’s talking about the star too. 

She thinks that she should be mad that she missed the star, after begging her mom to let her stay up late and waiting two hours to see it. She isn’t. 

———

It’s been two years, and now Joana and Cris are twelve. 

“I think I saw one!” Cris yells, splashing forward in the river. She reaches her arms out in attempts to grab a frog sitting on the riverbed. But Cris trips and falls into the river, and the frog hops away. 

“Are you okay?” Joana calls out, bounding forward a few steps and reaching her hand out to help Cris up. 

“I’m doing great,” Cris says, laughing. She lazily clasps Joana’s hand, their fingers locking perfectly together. Joana feels Cris squeeze her palm, and then Cris is pulling her down.

Joana falls into the water, landing next to Cris. When she looks up, her face is only inches away from Cris. 

“Hi,” Joana says, the word falling out of her mouth as she sharply exhales.

Joana thinks she might be hallucinating, but it looks like Cris might be moving closer. Joana blinks and Cris is kissing her, a chaste touch of lips that lasts a fraction of a second but Joana replays in her head for days after.

Cris pulls away, and their eyes meet. Joana thinks maybe she should speak, but she’s not sure if she remembers how.

They hear a croak and Joana’s head snaps down. In her lap is a frog, and it’s staring up at her. Joana looks back at Cris, and they both laugh. 

“Its eyes remind me of yours,” Joana says, an offhand comment that she immediately regrets.

Looking up, she sees that Cris is still smiling and let’s out a small relieved sigh. “I hope that’s a good thing,” Cris says, picking up the frog and staring into its eyes.

“It is,” Joana whispers.

Her clothes are soaking wet when she walks home, and her mom yells at her, but she still can’t keep the smile off her face.

Later that day she draws a frog and hangs it above her bed. 

———

Joana thought things might change between them, but they don’t. The kiss remains a shared secret, a brief but wonderful moment that’s only a memory now. 

———

Thirteen comes, and Joana prays things will stay the same. She thinks that she knows that she likes girls and guys. The first time she hears the word “bisexual,” she’s so surprised she’s not alone that she almost cries. 

“Please be honest,” Cris says, climbing through the window in Joana’s room with practiced familiarity that only comes with spending everyday together. “Do I look stupid?”

Cris sits down across from her on Joana’s bed with a new pair of round glasses that look slightly too big for her face.

“You look smart,” Joana says, an unspoken “and beautiful” resting precariously in the forefront of her mind. 

“Tell that to my mom,” Cris jokes, running her but Joana can see the comment for what it really is. 

“You’re mom is an idiot if she thinks you’re anything but amazing,” Joana says, a strong undercurrent of passion lacing her words. 

“You’re amazing, too,” Cris says, grabbing Joana’s hand.

———

Joana feelings change on a dime. At first her parents think it’s mood swings, a natural byproduct of being a teenager. But the changes are too frequent, Joana is too unstable, and the actions are too erratic to ignore. Joana’s mom takes her to a psychologist.

Joana fills out the forms, she sits through the interview, and she does what she’s told. Her head feels heavy and she feels numb, so she squeezes her necklace to distract herself. 

“It’s called Borderline Personality Disorder,” the psychologist says, and the words blur together after that. Joana has an appointment with a therapist in a few days, and she gets a prescription for medication. 

When she gets home, she researches for the rest of the day, her heart racing in her chest.

———

The treatment helps, and Joana thinks that she’s going to be okay. She’s tried to tell Cris, but every time the words get caught in her throat. 

“I have a mental illness,” she finally says, taking Cris to their park. “It’s called Borderline Personality Disorder.” 

“Oh,” Cris says, rubbing hand through her hair and looking down. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m on medication and I have a therapist. I think they help me sort out my emotions.” 

“As long as you’re okay,” Cris says quietly, looking up at Joana. Cris hugs her tightly, burying her face in Joana’s hair. Joana wraps her arms around Cris and returns the hug, feeling tension release inside of her.

———

They’re fourteen now, but Saturday is still sacred. This Saturday, Joana and Cris watch “Up.” 

“Can you imagine knowing someone for that long?” Joana asks, still crying from the first five minutes of the movie. “They met when they were kids and grew old together.”

“We’re going to be like that,” Cris says, an unwavering statement that she has no way of proving but believes regardless.

“You’re sure?” Joana asks.

“I can’t imagine my world without you,” Cris whispers, a soft confession that makes Joana’s heart beat hard in her chest.

Later, Cris’ head is in Joana’s lap, fast asleep after only 20 minutes into the movie. Cris looks so cute, Joana cannot pass up the opportunity to draw her. Joana reaches behind her for her sketchbook, moving very carefully to avoid waking her up. Later that day, Joana hangs it up in her room. Cris sees it and smiles.

———

Cris meets Rubén, and now he’s all that she ever talks about. She skips a Saturday to go on a date with him.

“If you don’t want me to go, I won’t,” Cris had said before the date.

“No, you have to go,” Joana had responded. 

She thinks it shouldn’t hurt this much, but it does. 

———

Cris spends less time with her now, hanging out with Rubén and his friends. She invites Joana, but she doesn’t want to go. She hates seeing them together, even though she has no right to. 

At one point Joana thought she would never go a day without seeing Cris. Now it’s been two weeks. Cris apologizes profusely, and Joana forgives her. 

———

Cris breaks up with Rubén after only a few months of dating him.

“What happened?” Joana asked, happy that they broke up and mad at herself for being happy. 

“He just wasn’t who I thought he was,” Cris says.

Joana learns later that it was because he made fun of her. 

———

Joana has another crisis and her parents drive her to the hospital. When she wakes up Cris is asleep in the chair next to her. 

“I called her,” Joana’s mom says after seeing the confused look on Joana’s face. 

“Thank you,” Joana says, playing with her necklace. Cris wakes up a few minutes later. 

“Do you need anything?” Cris asks, sitting on Joana’s hospital bed. “I’ll go get it.”

Cris moves to go get her jacket, but Joana reaches up to grab her arm.

“Stay,” Joana whispers, and Cris gets in bed next to her.

“Always.”

———

They’re in Cris’ bed when Joana gets a call. 

“Come home,” her dad says. “Your mom and I have something to discuss with you.”

———

Cris opens the door to Joana, her face pale and her eyes red from crying.

“I’m moving,” she sobs, falling into Cris’ arms. “In one month. My dad got a job in Argentina.”

Cris wraps her in her arms and strokes her hair, her own silent tears dripping down her face. 

———

They spend every second of that month together. Cris sleeps at Joana’s house every night, much to her mother’s behest. They go to their park and laugh and joke, ignoring the eminent future. 

———

“I want you to have this,” Joana says, taking off her necklace and putting it in Cris’ hands. “To remember me.”

Cris nods and puts it on. “Call. As much as you can,” she says, her voice hoarse from crying. 

Joana pulls her into a tight hug. Neither of them can breathe, but they don’t care.

“Don’t forget me,” Joana whispers into her ear.

“Never,” Cris sniffles, squeezing Joana even tighter and burying her face in Joana’s hair. 

———

They’re fourteen when Joana leaves.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joana's feelings for Cris are fading when she learns she is going back to Madrid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken so long!!! If you are still here and reading this even though it has almost been a year, I love you and I hope you have a lovely day.

Joana’s fifteen now. She knows Cris is too. She remembers when she first got to Argentina, and how she would stay up drawing Cris, trying to get her eyelashes the correct length, and the freckle on her cheek in the exact right place. She wanted to memorize her face, be able to draw it perfectly and whenever she wanted. She wanted to be certain that she would never forget Cris, that Cris would always be with her.

But Joana’s teardrops smudge the thin pencil lines, and Cris begins to fade.

———

Joana is sixteen when Cris forgets to send the letter. They had been writing each other every month since Joana left. When Joana asked why they didn’t just text, Cris said it was because she wanted a piece of Joana.

“I can carry around what you write if it’s on paper,” Cris had said. “It makes it real, like your words are with me, so you are with me.”

But January came and went and there wasn’t any letter. The February letter came, full of apologies, full of asking for forgiveness for forgetting. Joana forgave her, of course. But Cris still forgot, and Joana would be lying if she said it didn’t sting.

———

Maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder, but only for a year. Because now Joana is seventeen, the monthly letters stopped, and she rarely even thinks of Cris.

She meets a boy — his name is Eloy and he makes her happy.

Sometimes Joana surprises herself by how little she seems to care about the girl that used to take up her whole world. She hasn’t talked to Cris in five months, caught up in the euphoria of new friends and a new boy occupying her thoughts. Her feelings for Cris burned so brightly that they must have fizzled out, a flame fed with too much oxygen and not enough kindling.

———

Joana and Eloy only last a few months. He’s too distant, and his lips and hands are cold and hard. She remembers her kiss with Cris when they were twelve. She thinks she shouldn’t still be thinking about something that happened five years ago. She is.

———

Joana is still seventeen when her dad comes into her room to talk.

“We’re going back to Madrid,” he tells her, and Joana nods. She doesn’t tell him how it’s unfair to keep uprooting her life, how he must not really care about Joana, how he should have asked her first. But mostly she’s afraid to see Cris, afraid that they will both have changed so much that they won’t fit anymore. Afraid that Cris will have realized that she is much better without Joana, much happier. Afraid that she will only be able to talk with Cris, but still want to hold her hand.

———

Joana is three months away from turning eighteen when she goes back to Spain. Everything is reminding her of Cris, the girl she swore she was over, the girl she thinks she will always be hung up on.

She looks down at her phone, at Cris’ number. She doesn’t know how to say that she is here, that she’s back. If Cris would even want to see her anyway. She puts her phone away.

Joana’s first day of school is tomorrow. The pit in her stomach grows when she realizes that it’s the middle of the year, that everyone will already have friends, and that she’s seventeen and still worrying about who she’s going to talk to and if anyone will like her.

———

Joana gets to her first class early. Literature. The teacher’s name is Pedro and he says hello to Joana so loudly that she almost has a heart attack.

She sits alone, setting down her things and then leaving to go to the bathroom before class starts.

While Joana’s walking back, drying her hands on her pants, she sees bright blonde hair swinging in a ponytail that looks a little too familiar and now she really thinks she’s going to have a heart attack. The beautiful blonde girl is sitting in the seat next to Joana’s things and she’s smiling and it’s too much and not enough at the same time because she hasn’t seen this girl in three years and everything is different now.

Joana takes a breath and resists the urge to run in the opposite direction. She opens the door, and stares at the floor as she walks to her seat. When she looks up, Cris is staring at her like she doesn’t believe Joana is real.

And now Cris is out of her seat and she’s getting closer and all of a sudden Cris has her arms wrapped around Joana. Joana is frozen, but soon she gives in and she brings her arms up around Cris and pulls her tight against her body because it’s been three years and she’s missed her so much. She knows they are in the middle of a classroom and there are people watching them and she doesn’t care. Joana is taller than Cris now, and Cris has tucked her head underneath Joana’s and Joana’s nose is in her hair and she breathes Cris in. She smells like some new shampoo, like lavender and honey, but she also smells like the park they played in and the river where she kissed Joana for the first time and her bedroom and now it’s all coming back and Joana thinks she might be crying.

Joana pulls away first, and Cris’ eyes are red and wet but she’s smiling so brightly that Joana’s heart jumps to her throat.

“I’ve missed you,” they both say at the same time, and then laugh.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Cris asks, lightly punching Joana in the arm. “If I knew beforehand I wouldn’t be having a breakdown in front of all of these people right now.”

“I didn’t know how,” Joana says softly, suddenly embarrassed and pulling at the threads of her jacket.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cris says. “You’re here now.”

“I’m here,” Joana responds, and she is.

She thinks it’s funny that she was ever upset about coming back to Spain.

———

A few weeks pass, and they have spent almost every moment together. They’ve grown and they’ve changed, but Cris’ hand still fits perfectly inside Joana’s. Like when you drop the last puzzle piece on the ground and you don’t find it until a few days later, and you think you can ignore the missing part but it doesn’t feel right until it’s there.

Cris is pulling Joana down the street and now they are at their park and Joana can’t control the smile on her face.

They sit on one of the benches.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Joana asks, scared of what it means if she says yes. But Cris shakes her head and smiles.

“I have some new friends, though,” Cris says. “Nora, Viri, and Eva. And Amira, of course, but you already know her.”

Joana smiles, trying to silence the little part of her that feels like she’s been replaced when she knows that’s not true.

“I’m happy for you,” Joana says, because she is.

Joana is staring in Cris’ eyes, and Cris smiles softly at her. The blue is bright and warm and reminds her of the ocean and the sky and every other trite comparison people say about blue eyes that always felt empty and fake in books but maybe Joana understands them now. Because maybe Cris is taller and she looks older but those blue eyes are the same eyes that she stared at when they were five on the first day of school, and when they were thirteen in Cris’ room, and when they were fourteen and saying goodbye. Because when she looks in Cris’ eyes all she feels is warm and safe and like nothing really changed at all.

———

They are eighteen and Cris is cutting Joana’s hair. Joana had complained that her hair was getting too long, and Cris had taken matters into her own hands.

When Joana sees Cris bring out some scissors that probably haven’t seen the light of day since before Joana left, she opens her mouth to say something about how she should really be going to a hairdresser and how she was pretty sure that the only training Cris ever had was giving Dani staircase bangs when she was seven and he was ten. But the words die in her mouth when Cris climbs into Joana’s lap in a position that could only be described as unprofessional.

“I’ve never had a hairdresser do this before,” Joana says, her voice an octave too high even though she is trying to sound calm and unaffected.

“Only for the best,” Cris says, and maybe it’s wishful thinking but she thinks she sees Cris’ cheeks flush.

Her hair is choppy in the back and Joana’s mom yells at her the minute she walks through the door.

“Are you even listening to me?” she asks. Joana lies and says yes. But truthfully she hasn’t paid attention to anything, too consumed by thinking about how close she was to Cris only an hour before.

———

A month passes and they are still eighteen. They are watching “Dangerous Liaisons” for their literature class, but Cris falls asleep within the first hour. That would be fine, except Cris’ head is resting on Joana’s shoulder and her whole body is relaxed against her. Joana doesn’t want to move or even breathe so that Cris can sleep peacefully.

The end credits roll, and it’s late.

“Wake up,” Joana says, shaking Cris lightly. But Cris stays asleep, so Joana has to resort to her second plan.

Joana slowly gets up, and gently lifts Cris off of the couch that they had both been sitting on. She holds Cris against her body, and brings her to Cris’ bedroom, lying her down on her bed.

Joana’s breath catches when Cris grabs her shirt, trapping Joana.

“Stay,” she says, her voice heavy with sleep. Joana knows it’s late but she also knows that she can’t say no to Cris, so she stays. She quickly texts her parents, and then crawls into bed with her. She gives Cris plenty of space, but Cris rolls over to her and now Joana is staring right at Cris’ face.

They are both still in their clothes and neither of them seem to care. Joana can feel herself slowly drifting away, she can feel sleep coming.

“How long are we going to keep pretending?” Cris asks, but it’s late enough that Joana can pretend she didn’t hear her, that she was already asleep. Because maybe they are pretending, but they’ve been pretending for so long that Joana doesn’t know how to stop.

When they wake up, Cris’ hands are under Joana’s shirt, and her head is in on Joana’s chest.

They don’t talk about it.

———

They are in their park and they are eighteen. Joana is beginning to think she might be eighteen forever and she doesn’t mind, because she is eighteen and a beautiful blonde girl that she’s known since she was five is holding her hand and leading her through their park and she staring up at Joana like Joana is all she sees.

They stop at a patch of dandelions.

“You gave me dandelions,” Cris says. “The first time I ever saw you, you gave me dandelions.”

“Yellow, like your hair,” Joana said, echoing her first words to Cris. “Well, not these ones.”

The ones they are in front of have bloomed and are now full of seeds. Cris bends over and picks one up.

“Make a wish,” Cris says, but Joana can barely concentrate on what she is saying because the way Cris is looking at her right now is making her feel like she is on fire. Her eyes are dark and challenging and Joana doesn’t know what to do, so she takes the flower.

Joana closes her eyes and blows away the seeds. Before she opens her eyes, she feels Cris’ hand at the back of her neck and she is being pulled forward and Cris’ lips are on hers, hungry. Joana drops the dandelion and grabs Cris’ waist and pulls her body against her and kisses her back, harder.

“Breathe,” Cris says, in between kisses, and Joana hadn’t even realized that she had been holding her breath for the past few minutes. Maybe for her whole life. She takes a shaky breath and Cris’ hands are on her face, brushing away the tears that Joana didn’t even know were there.

“It’s okay,” Cris says. “It’s okay now.”

And it is okay now, because Cris is hugging her and Joana has never felt more loved or wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Joana says, trying to calm herself down. “I’m ruining it. I can’t believe I’ve been waiting for this forever, and I’m ruining it.”

“You could never ruin anything,” Cris says quietly, but her words are solid and strong. Strong enough for Joana to let herself be steadied by them, comforted.

“I love you,” Joana says, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been more sincere in her life.

“I love you too,” Cris responds, brushing the hair out of Joana’s eyes and standing on her toes to kiss her forehead.

And Joana knows. She knows that Cris loves her, she knows that it has always been them, that it will always be them. Everything is full now, and everything is sweet.


End file.
